


Puppy Love

by elenajames



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 14:11:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8492776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/elenajames
Summary: Travis is his roommate on roadies, his buddy on and off the ice. Ivan just doesn't know how to deal with the butterflies his teammate inspires.





	

It’s unprofessional. That’s what a lot of folks would say. Fraternizing with a teammate can only lead to trouble and - inevitably - heartbreak. Besides, Ivan prides himself on being professional, being serious, and it has earned him the respect of his older teammates already. 

 

Then again, he’s not the only Flyer who can’t seem to keep his eyes to himself. He’d heard the rumors about G and Briere, and you’d have to be blind to not see the way Jake looks at G now. Thankfully, Travis seems more intent on trying to fit in than anything, and that, perhaps, leaves him a little blind to Ivan’s attentions. For the best, really. 

 

Out on the road, Travis is a great friend to have. He’s as new to this crew as Ivan is, and they’re young enough that they have a few more things in common than the other, older guys. On the ice, he’s fast and and quick to learn, jiving with Coots and generally being likeable. 

 

“Provy, smile!” he quips, zipping past Ivan during practice and hammering a puck toward the net. It sings just a little as it slides past the post, but still hits the back of the net. Ivan tries to ignore the way his heart skips, focusing on the ice and the net and - his shot goes wide, and he wishes he had a full mask like Mase or Mike to cover up the blush that surely races up his cheeks. 

 

Shayne gives him a soft smile as he passes him a puck to try again, and it’s enough to make Ivan feel like his stomach has dropped out. He’s being obvious, has to be, although at least G and Simmonds haven’t noticed, he thinks. Of course, it’s Shayne who’s the only in the locker room when he heads in, and it’s Shayne who takes the time to give him a quick pat on the back before the others can see. 

 

“You’re not the first and you won’t be the last,” the other man says softly. It says a lot without saying anything incriminating at all; really, Ivan thinks he might be impressed if he weren’t so mortified. At the very least, Shayne doesn’t seem bothered or intent on outing him, so he’ll take what he can get. 

 

* * *

 

Travis is flying high after his first goal. Hell, who wouldn’t be? It was the turning point of the game, no matter how humbly the forward insisted it was the hit on Jake that brought the rally. Jake and Claude are clearly torn between being the dads running herd on the others and celebrating as hard as the others, but any sense of responsibility goes out the window when Wayne declares they need shots. 

 

Ivan drinks slower than the others, determined to keep an eye on his teammates and enjoy himself at the same time. Of course it’s Travis that gets hammered first, cheeks pink and smiles broad as he laughs and jokes with the others. The good humor is infectious, and Ivan finds that he’s grinning despite himself. The screen above them replays some of their game, and a round of cheers goes up when Travis lands his shot. All Ivan can focus on is that moment of flying toward his teammate, the solid feel of him as they celebrated on the ice. 

 

“Prov!” Claude yells in his ear. “Take your partner in crime home, eh? Hak will have all our asses if we don’t make practice tomorrow.” 

 

And that’s how Ivan finds himself with a literal armful of drunk Travis, who’s in a good enough mood that he goes willingly when their cab arrives. It takes some doing for Ivan to get Travis up the stairs to his building and into the elevator that will take them up to his floor. Loose-limbed, Travis trips a little getting in, and Ivan’s barely got the presence of mind and coordination to catch him. He drags him upright and into the elevator just as the door closes. 

 

“Hey,” Travis grins dopily, pushing Ivan backward until he’s pinned between cool metal and warm body. “You’re pretty, you know that?” While Ivan’s dumbstruck, Travis laughs a little, low and dangerously close to his mouth. “Not  _ pretty _ . What’sit. Handsome. You’re handsome.” 

 

“Thanks,” Ivan starts, unable to fight the blush burning in his cheeks. “You’re -” 

 

He doesn’t get any further, not with Travis’ mouth pressed to his, leaving the taste of whiskey and the sticky feel of soda on his lips. It only lasts a moment before the elevator dings and he’s grateful that it’s because they’ve arrived on Travis’ floor and not because another resident of the complex was boarding; they’re new enough that they probably wouldn’t get recognized, but that’s a risk he’s not ready for - that their  _ careers _ are not ready for. 

 

“Come in?” Travis pleads when Ivan gets his door open and nudges him through it. He shouldn’t. It’s the worst idea, with both of them drunk, but his choice flies out the window when Travis sidles back up and pecks him gently on the mouth. “Don’t have to do anything if you’re not ready. Just want you to stay.” 

 

It’s not like Ivan isn’t used to sharing a room with Travis; they’re roomies on the road, after all. Sharing a bed is a totally different concept, though, and he’s sure it would be much harder if they both weren’t drunk and a little handsy. Travis sleeps on a double, so there’s just barely enough room for them both. They strip haphazardly out of clothes, curling up facing one another in nothing but boxers. 

 

“You’re quiet,” Travis mumbles, already half asleep. He reaches out, fumbling as he touches Ivan’s cheek and strokes down his arm. 

 

“You always say that.” It gets Ivan a little smile, right before Travis drops off to sleep. He’s awake a while longer, trying to pretend like he’s not studying his friend’s face in the dark; at least no one is around to judge him when he fails. 

 

* * *

 

Ivan wakes early - well, earlier than Travis - just like always. He feels calm and happy for a moment when he realizes that they’ve drifted closer in the night. Travis has an arm draped over Ivan’s waist and his breath is puffing gently over the back of his neck. It lasts all of a minute until his phone blares loudly, startling them both and Ivan scrambles out of bed to snatch it from his jeans while Travis curses tiredly .

 

“Kid! Where the hell are you?” It’s G and he can hear some of the others in the background and - shit. 

 

“Coming!” 

 

Claude mumbles something that sound suspiciously like “I bet” before telling him to get his ass to the rink and hanging up. 

 

Then Travis’ phone rings. 

 

They’re a mess, scrambling to get clothes on and it’s going to be so telling when he shows up wearing the same clothes he left the bar in last night, but there’s no hope for it now. They stumble into the locker room while the other guys are getting ready to head onto the ice; a few greet them with bemused looks, some biting back grins while others roll their eyes. Luckily, nobody really looks pissed but Claude’s got that ‘We’re going to talk about this later’ look, so Ivan resigns himself to a sit-down with the captain in his near future. 

 

Practice goes better than Ivan expects, being on the ice helping him to focus through the lingering hangover and general buzz from spending the night with Travis. The other man doesn’t seem too ruffled either, chirping the other guys and generally working as hard as he ever does - except for the rare moments Ivan catches hazel eyes watching him. 

 

As expected, Claude catches him after practice, drawing him aside. He’s not alone, at least, as he sees Wayne leading Travis away. They’re left alone as the other guys trickle out of the locker room, and Claude gives him a gap-toothed smile. 

 

“Don’t look so nervous. You’re not in trouble. Yeah, you were late and you definitely shouldn’t do that again, but you know that, Ivan. You’re a good kid.” 

 

Pink sneaks up into Ivan’s cheeks at the praise and he rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. He startles a little when Claude reaches out to pat his knee, a slightly more affectionate gesture than the whaps on the back or punches to the shoulder he’s used to getting from the other guys. 

 

“Ivan. I - we - just want you to be careful. You’re good, hardworking, and the team likes you. We’re on your side, but we’d rather not have anything happen to you, alright?” 

 

Meaning within meaning, but Ivan gets it. Claude knows. The whole team, apparently, knows just how bad he has it for Travis and he feels like he could sink right through the floor. And right now Wayne is - 

 

“Hey hey hey, just hang on now.” Claude grabs him by the arm, pulls him back to the bench. 

 

“Claude, I- Wayne, and Travis -” 

 

“Konecny’s got it as bad as you, Ivan. You’re fine. We just wanted to talk to you both first. Not all of the guys know, and the ones that do might talk shit, but you two. . . just be careful, alright?” 

 

“Yeah,” Ivan whispers. He can’t quite manage to look Claude in the face, and he can hear the older man sigh next to him. Before he knows it, he’s being dragged into an awkwardly-angled two-armed hug. He accepts the affection; as odd as it feels, it still eases something inside his gut that’s been twisted up since Shayne had commented all those weeks ago. 

 

“Be smart. And use condoms.” 

 

The last is a chirp for sure, but it makes Ivan laugh and breaks the tense moment between the two players. Claude gives him a slap on the back and grabs up his bag. 

 

“Go on. Enjoy the rest of the day. Rest up for the game tomorrow.” 

 

Wayne’s waiting for Claude when they make it outside, and just behind him is Travis. The older men head out, leaving the younger pair behind. 

 

“Dinner?” Travis finally asks and yeah. Ivan can do dinner, especially when they swing by one of their favorite takeout places, picking up as much food as they can carry before heading back to Travis’. 

 

“So that was awkward. Guess G gave you the talk, too, huh?” Travis says when they’re settled on his couch, food spread out on the coffee table before them. 

 

“Yeah. So you . . .?” Ivans words trail off into a question, unsure of how to ask what he wants to without sounding eager or hopelessly lovesick. 

 

“Like you? Yeah.” 

 

It’s odd to watch Travis be shy, eyes focused on the carton of pepper steak in his hands rather than on Ivan. Gingerly setting his own box back on the coffee table, Ivan scoots a little closer and takes Travis’ from him. It leaves his hands free to hold, both of them warm from the heat of the food and calloused in the way only hockey players are. Ivan rubs his thumbs along the plane of Travis’ palms, trying to be soothing when he’s every bit as nervous as the other man is. 

 

“Hey. Can I?” 

 

Ivan nods and meets Travis halfway, their angle a little off at first until they shift and find just the right way to fit their mouths together. It’s good, soft and warm and easy. They’re smiling shyly at each other as they pull apart. 

 

“Stay the night again?” Travis asks softly. 

 

“Yes. I - I will need to get some clothes, from my place. But yes.” 

 

* * *

 

Spending the night with Travis is innocent, for the most part. They touch and kiss and grind a little but neither of them have been with a guy before and well. Neither is quite ready to take it that far, yet. They trade of staying places when they’re at home, as much as they can get away with it; it’s almost easier on the road because they share a room and no one questions it much when they retire early after a game. 

 

Claude and Wayne chirp them endlessly when they’re alone, of course. 

 

“They’re like puppies, man,” Wayne whines one night when they’re winding down after a rough game, the second of a back-to-back. He gestures dramatically at the pair cuddling on the other bed, stealing quick kisses when they think the other men aren’t watching. 

 

Claude just huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes. “You’re so bitter, Simmer. They’re young and in love.” He’s half chirping, half serious, the smile on his mouth just a little too tender for it to be all sarcasm. 

 

“No joke. Bet you two haven’t even done the dirty, right?” 

 

Ivan laughs, tucking his face away in Travis’ shoulder. 

 

“Oh God, that’s so precious I might be sick.” 

 

Wayne’s teasing gets derailed when Claude shoves him off the bed unceremoniously. He spares a grin at Ivan and Travis before he’s yanked off the bed himself, and they watch as their teammates wrestle like little kids on the floor. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing Hockey RPF. I'm fairly new to hockey period so....forgive me? I'm running on the barest knowledge of these two rookies and the vaguest impressions from the rest of the team. Feedback/tips on characterization is welcome.  
> Also, this is self-indulgent fluff inspired by Mindy Gledhill's "I Do Adore."


End file.
